Path
by Chiriru
Summary: Clark Kent has spent the last three months trying to prove what happened to his best friends safe house was no accident. Before Lionel Luthor's trial begins, he finds himself racing for answers against another truthseeker Chloe's mother. S4 AU
1. Genesis

Spoilers: Chloe Chronicles; S1-S3 with a slight change from Covenant (removal of the cave storyline)  
Disclaim: Don't own what Almiles created; just what I did.  
AN: Thanks to Tig, T, Amy, Landa, Stina, Medie and other people who helped me get off my butt and finish this.

**The Path  
**_**episode 1.01  
**genesis_

_1._

Lana Lang heard the shuffling coming from the Torch Offices as she walked down the empty hallway of Smallville High. It was early August and she was only back in Smallville to sign up for her fourth and final year of high school; the newly acquired papers from registration crinkled as she clutched them tighter and quickened her pace towards the journalism room. She paused in the door way and let out a disappointed sigh.

Clark looked up at the door way for a second, confusion turning into realization on his face and her name dropped awkwardly from his lips. Lana tried not to dwell on the expression as she grudgingly stepped inside the small, stuffy room. She flicked her high pony tail off the back of her neck, trying to choose her words carefully. She hadn't parted with Clark on the best terms; in fact the deafening silence of the car ride to Metropolis' International Airport seemed to creep up immediately.

"II thought she was back." Lana managed to get out, looking at the yellow and black checkerboard pattern of the floor tiles. 'She' was obvious to both of them, and Lana noticed Clark's shoulders slag, just slightly, before he sighed.

"Me too, for a second," he admitted. Lana nodded, looking around the room. She hadn't made much of a point of hanging around the Torch in over a year when Chloe had kicked her out. Despite working a friendship after that incident, and the incidents about Clark afterwards, she hadn't felt like she belonged in Chloe's territory any longer. Maybe if she had...

Lana killed that train of thought quickly. They had both decided to move around the issues of their sophomore year as much as possible; Chloe had seemingly found her distractions at the Daily Planet, and she...well, she had found them in a string of bad relationship choices and running off to Paris.

'_Good one_.' she commented to herself. Yet, as far as Lana could tell, the Torch looked practically untouched like Chloe Sullivan had stepped out to grab a low-fat, no-foam latte instead of disappearing of the face of the Earth (or, at least Lowell County) since May. A phone call from Peter Ross in June had made it obvious that Clark had set up shop in there since school had let out, but it sure didn't look like it to Lana.

"So," Clark had tacked on after a few moments, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning against the desk _'Chloe's desk,' _Lana's brain added. "How was Paris?"

Lana nodded absently as she awkwardly stood in the door frame. "It was good. Different. Uhm, my course was for about six weeks; it was fun, I guess. I came home in July and I've been spending the rest of the time with Nell and Dean. I suppose I just didn't want to see the Talon deserted again," she added with a nervous snort.

She honestly didn't want to have to come to face the fact that both Chloe and Gabe Sullivan were really, truly deceased. Granted, Pete had told her on the phone about the explosion and how Clark was relentless about figuring out the how's and the whys and the what-fors; neither of them were willing to consider the possibility that for whatever reason, Chloe was gone.

Lana thought she was a lot more pragmatic about the situation people didn't survive exploding buildings. _'But this is Smallville' _part of her argued. _'Clark survived one last year; Chloe could be alive. And if Chloe is alive and doesn't want to be found...'_ she added mentally _'well then, no one is going to find her_.'

"But you registered for school." Clark's questioning brought her back to the present and she nodded.

"Yeah. There is a possibility that Dean is going to get transferred down here, permanently. If not, I guess I'll just sell the majority of my shares back to Lex and stay at the Talon." She fanned her self with the paper in her hand. "I, I don't know. I guess kind of feel that I kind of feel that I should of been here. For her. Like I left her when she needed a friend." The statement hung in the air for a minutes waiting for Clark to respond. He didn't. "Well, I guess I'll see you around."

Clark nodded. "Yeah. Bye Lana." She waved absently as she continued down the hall. Pete had called Clark obsessive; Lana thought that Pete's own view point on the entire matter was simply too emotional. It was obvious that Clark was occupied with it, that he thought himself guilty of her disappearance; after three years of friendship, Lana knew that was just Clark. There was no reason to "stage an intervention" as Pete had said - all Clark needed was to let himself accept and mourn the loss of Chloe.

'We all do.' she though walking out to the parking lot.

* * *

Clark turned back to the computer as soon as Lana left the room. He'd spent the past month carefully combing through he documentation of the office, trying to find any hidden clues he could. After Lex was put into Belle Reve, he was almost positive Chloe had made back-ups of what she had. The way he figured it, finding out what she had and whom she had connections to would answer where she was currently. 

After all, everything else thus far had been a dead end.

Clark sat down in the computer chair and looked at the half-written email on his computer screen. Chad Hartness, Chloe's former contact at the city morgue, had been one of the few he'd been able to convince that Chloe was alive. It had allowed him a slight 'in' with Chloe's web of sources but even then tracking people Chloe was able to wrangle information from was hard. Clark had spent most of June hating himself for not paying more attention to how Chloe gathered what she did on a weekly basis.

_  
Subject: Re: Missing In Action _

Chad -

I know you are just as worried as I am. I understand that you are risking plenty doing what you are doing. But I think by now you realize I wouldn't be asking this of you if I didn't think it was needed but surely given the legal situation it's more than obvious what has happened and who caused it to occur.

Surely you understand my hesitancy to turn to his son; after all he promised to protect her in the past promised me that she'd be safe. The truth is that obviously didn't happen; while we can speculate it is not his fault there is nothing that proves that it isn't.

I'm not willing to risk two months of hard work to go down the drain just because he can not stop from baiting his father; I've got a feeling that's why she's missing in the first place.

The cursor blinked at the end of the sentence. Clark rubbed at his temple; Lana had broken his train of thought. He was unsure about his phrasing; he didn't feel comfortable naming names at all and the inability to directly say that he didn't trust talking to Lex about anything, _much less _Chloe's fate, was aggravating.

Clark flicked off the monitor, the last thing he needed was Principal Reynolds reading over his shoulder and realize the new editor was already misappropriating the school's resources. While the older man might encourage his students thinking in new ways, Clark didn't think that included illegally looking into medical records.

He entered the dark room, flicking on the light. Surveying the bulletin board, he looked for any possible missing link he hadn't seen from the information he'd plucked from the Torch - again. Pictures and articles were stapled on, certain ones linked with red or blue threads, covered the entire expense and all of them related back to her. There were her Torch, Ledger, and Planet articles, the make-shift timeline at the top, the mapped out "Chloe Chronicles" from her sophomore year (a particularly painful find, even worse to realize there was so much more that she had uncovered about Earl's disease than he ever knew about), the LuthorCorp paraphernalia that was duct taped to the inside of the file cabinet

Clark snorted. "If Chloe could see me now..." He followed the blue thread from her picture down to Ledger article about her encounter with the Levitas project. If he hadn't of been so angry at what he'd overheard, he wouldn't of told Lex then Gabe would of never been fired and she'd never of been doused with the gas. There would be no confession, no trial, and no explosion. His fingers trailed back up to the photograph of her, stuck in the middle of the board. He vocalized words all too familiar, feeling the same gut feeling of guilt settling in.

"It's all my fault."

He heard the heels long before the voice spoke.

"Really." There as something familiar about the intonation of the low voice, something that made him look over his shoulder to see the thirty-something woman leaning against the door. Her tailored suit spoke of wealth and class just a few hairs shy of a Luthor, and the way she glided into the room only enhanced the observation. "If so, I think you've got some explaining to do, Clark. Especially to me."

He swiveled to face her, arms crossing across his chest. "Who are you? How do you know my name? Why are you here?"

"I suppose she didn't tell you about me, hm?" She looked over the boards in amusement. "Good, maybe she's finally grown up. Assuming she's still alive." She met his glare with a devilish smirk. "As for knowing yours, I have the right to know the people my daughter associates with. Especially those who she fancies herself in love with. And, besides, it's not as if you've been exactly secretive about tracing her where abouts, now have you?"

The realization hit him almost instantaneously. "You're Chloe's mom," he said, his voice dying into airy disbelief.

She flashed him a quick toothy grin, however, something in it was anything but friendly. "And to think, Chloe said you were dumb." The smile fell to a smirk and the sickeningly sweet innocent act fell from her voice. "Elizabeth Lane, at your service."

"But why are you here?" he asked, watching her rift through his wall oddly clucking her tongue at different items.

She looked at him through her heavily mascaraed eyelashes - "Wasn't I clear enough, farm boy? I'm looking for my _daughter_. Obviously, this would be the first stop - even _you_ picked that up."

Clark snorted and followed her out of the dark room as she progressed her searching to the main offices. "Why? I was under the impression that you couldn't care less about her - after all, she lived here for years and you didn't give her the time of day. Not once."

"Clark." Her tone was ice, and her eyes glinted sharply at him. "I'm looking for my daughter because she's missing and I want to get the bastards that did this to my baby girl as much as you do. Now either you can help me or you can get the hell out of my way, but - and I'm only saying this once - you are not going to stop me."

Clark loomed over her, noticing the similarities. The same jaw line, the same frustrated snarl. But Elizabeth had some kind of inlayed anger that Chloe lacked. He wasn't sure if it was age or a fundamental character difference but it was so radically un-Chloe it made him wonder if this woman was really who she claimed to be. "Or what?"

Elizabeth's smirk grew wider and wickedly sweet. "Or I make your life even more of a living hell than it already is, sweetcheeks."

* * *

_2_. 

"Pete, I'm telling you, Clark's as normal as ever." Lana held her cell phone between her shoulder and cheek as she wrapped her hair into a bun. How had she forgotten how _hot _Smallville was in August? Six weeks away might as well have been six years; the climate, both physical and social, was so different in Smallville. She couldn't help wondering how different, and yes, how boring it must have seemed to Chloe and Lex when they moved down here years ago.

His voice came back irritated. "And I'm telling _you_ that you're missing something. Listen, you've got to be my eyes and ears up there because our buddy Clark? Isn't exactly being forth-coming."

"Was Clark ever forth-coming?" she asked with a snort, shifting her phone to the other ear as she drove down Main Street. "Listen Pete, I know you guys are all gung-ho on finding Chloe but maybe she's really gone."

"You think she's dead."

Pete's icy voice unnerved her. "No," she reasoned, "She could be in hiding in which case looking for her only makes it worse." Lana gestured out into open space as she pulled up to the red light, belatedly noticing an old couple looking at her oddly as she did so. Yes, Smallville was definitely different than Paris and Metropolis where no one cared what she did at all. "I mean, think about it, if she's undercover and you guys blow it... that could be like really the end of her."

"She could have been kidnapped, in which case finding her could really mean saving her life." Pete countered.

"She could have been abducted to be an alien sex slave," she retorted in an embarrassed whisper, turning right. "I just don't think it's very likely. And even if she was kidnapped, it's been _almost three months _Pete the likelihood of her still being alive isn't very good. I don't like realizing it either." She paused for a minute, "But it's something you and Clark have to deal with. That we _all_ have to deal with. Chloe is really out of our lives and she's not coming back."

"And this spring, should we of all realized that you were probably dead when you disappeared? Or Clark, the summer before? Or Chloe, when Officer Watts buried her alive?" Pete's voice was quietly calm and oddly creepy.

Lana cleared her throat. "I-I just want you guys to find closure." She made a left onto Pleasant Meadows Nell and Dean were supposed to look at a house on Oak Avenue. She had already argued to re-buy the Potter homestead from the Conroy's but Dean had won out thus far in claiming they 'needed to look at all their options.' She tapped her hand on the steering wheel waiting to get around Mr. Bell's combine.

"I get it, Lana, really, but Clark's not going to stop until he knows exactly what happened maybe you should support that. I mean, she was your best friend too; don't you want to know? I want to know. And that's why I need you."

"If you are so interested, why not move back up here? I mean, it's not like it wouldn't make life easier." She stepped on the gas and passed the tractor in a hurry, switching cell phone ears once again. "You could team up with Clark and play super-sleuths all day long."

"It's... complicated."

She snorted as she pulled her Liberty down Oak. "Typical. Listen, I've got to go. Next time you call, can it be a social reason and _not _an interrogation if you want to find something out, as Clark yourself. You'll probably have better luck."

* * *

Three inch heels, a tight black business suit, and a bright red smirk stood just outside of the wire cage. It wasn't a simple game of forced DA bravado - she was easily wearing thousands in Jimmy Chu and Donna Karan, and unlike most state paid lawyers, was completely at home in it. This woman was definitely not a member of the prosecution that Lex had pulled together so carefully; no, the way she wore her attitude... she had something to sell. 

Lionel clasped onto the bar. "You're not Terrance."

A voice beside her spoke up - long hair, bright eyed and almost as smartly dressed as she was, though a few inches shorter due to her heels. "You don't need Terrance," he supplied easily slipping a business card through the open space. Lionel flicked down at the card, seeing the familiar chess pieced logo of his pet law firm with two names embossed on the black paper.

"Believe me Mr...?"

"Manning, Lyle Manning." the man supplied quickly and extended a hand Lionel ignored.

"Yes, well as capable as you and your partner may be," he replied, palming the card, "there _is _a reason why I don't deal with the Bludhaven branch of your firm." He let the statement hang in the air as he went back to his slowly growing collection of books. Over the past few years, he hadn't had the chance to look at anything more the the most cursory information on his cancer.

For the past three months, however, he had nothing _but _time.

"Previous business arrangements aside," she proclaimed confidently, "you _do_ need us now. And you don't have a choice in matter."

Lionel glanced over his shoulder. He didn't ask the question; the answer what of what had happened to his former attorney was obvious.

"Mr. Bishop sent us himself," Manning supplemented anyway. "Terrance is...permanently indisposed."

"Ah." His mind riffled through his options - his head attorney was off in some body bag and the majority of them were hired through the same agency. He had enough money to higher the most promising attorneys around the world, but very few would risk taking on such a high profile case when the news media had proclaimed his guilt already. Terrance had been black mailed into it. He looked over the duo with disgust. But putting his fate in the hands of two completely unknowns? "And what makes you think I will stick with Bishop now that my long term arrangement with Mr. Lance has fallen through?"

"You need us, Mr. Luthor," she said through her smirk. "And I think you will find that our division can offer you some very unique... perks."

He sat on his bench, suddenly amused. "If you are talking about your company's method of silencing pests, might I remind you that LuthorCorp has already provided in attaining many of them as well as the research behind the methods your company often uses to win. I fail to see that as a 'perk.' Now if you'll excuse me Mr. Manning, Miss Meyers."

"What we are talking about," Manning said, his eye twitching slightly, "is the newest data regarding a certain type of carcinoma in hepatocytes." He pulled a file which he threw onto the floor with a loud thump. Lionel's eyes followed the folder and started at it.

Meyers grinned, he could hear it in her voice. "Look it over, Mr. Luthor. The board of trustees have a vested interest in you and your work. Call us when you're ready."

* * *

"I'm home," Clark bellowed, walking in the screen door. Martha Kent nodded briefly at him, finishing up the apple she was peeling. 

"Just in time for lunch too, why am I not surprised." Clark grinned at her as his started setting the table. "So," Martha continued, wiping her hands, "where have you been all day?"

"The Torch."

Martha set the pork chops on the table. "Silly question," she muttered to herself under her breath.

"Hey!" Jonathan acknowledged as he walked in. Kissing Martha on the cheek along the way, he went to the sink to wash his hands. "Remind me to call Bill Ross after lunch - I think he still has my madaxe. So-" he turned his gaze towards Clark. "Where have you been? You did the south forty fast than normal."

Clark started plating the food. "I was waiting for an email from Chloe's friend Chad-"

"The one with the eyeliner?" Jonathan interjected.

"Yeeeah," Clark said looking at his plate. "Anyway, he's got a friend in Metropolis who works for the police department; we've pieced together some new evidence in the case - I think we're pretty close to proving that it wasn't an accident. And," he pushed his corn around with his fork, "possibly that Chloe's still out there. Not just in the possible-but-not-probable either, like actually physically out there."

"Ah."

Martha over at Jonathan imploringly. He shook his head, but she sent him a firm look.

"Which reminds me," Clark added looking up. "Do we still have Lucy Lane's phone number? I know Chloe gave it to me one of the times before she left for the Planet but I can't find it and I need to verify someone's identity-"

"Son," Jonathan interrupted.

"We know how close of a friend Chloe was to you, Clark." Martha added. "But-"

"But don't you think you're getting a little carried away?"

Clark shoved himself away from the table giving them both incredulous looks. "What! Dad, there is _no_ physical DNA of Chloe or her father in that wreckage."

"Clark," Martha's voice was softer, pleading. "That doesn't mean anything, you know that."

"The Metropolis Bomb squad found traces of C4 in the debris," Clark continued on ignoring her. "And the FBI chalks it up to a gas leak? Someone purposefully blew that house up. Someone purposefully tried to kill her."

"We aren't arguing with you about that, son!"

"Then what are you saying, huh?" He asked walking away from them. "What in the world are you saying? That I shouldn't bother looking for her because she got mixed up with the wrong crowd? Because I kind of remember _you_ showing up in Metropolis last year, Dad."

Jonathan gave him an imploring look. "That's different Clark, you weren't in control. Chloe-"

Clark turned around and faced him, eyes glittering. "_Chloe_ had her life systematically destroyed by Lionel Luthor because she_ refused _to tell him about _me_. **_I'm_** the reason she's gone. So _don't_ tell me to stop looking."

"Chloe was old enough to make her own decisions," Jonathan said, his hand curling into a tight fist.

"Chloe was a pawn between Lex and Lionel, Dad. If it were mom, would you _really_ be able to walk away?"

Martha put a placating hand on Clark's forearm. "Haven't you even considered that she's not...?"

"Does it matter?" His head dipped and voice lowered almost immediately. "I was gone last year and she did everything she could to find me. None of this had to happen, but it did because she was my friend. Now she's missing and everyone wants to sweep it under the rug. I have to find out what happened, Mom. I _owe_ her that."

* * *

_3_. 

Lex walked into his office pausing at the sight of a leggy brunette smirking at him.

"You're sitting in my chair." He slipped his hands into his pockets and walked up to the opposite side of his desk to look at her smiling face as she sipped scotch.

"I'm surprised at you Alexander, still keeping your doors unlocked and your liquor supply out in the open. Didn't daddy dearest teach you anything?" She took a long slow, deliberate sip. "Mmm, maybe he did teach you a little bit about quality items. Can I poor you a glass, for old times sake? I've almost missed our little drinking parties." She smiled around the lip of the glass as she drank again.

"Liz," he kept his tone patronizing. "You were the one who tried to poisoned me, aren't you?" His smirk was turning charismatic. "I realized that I annoyed you when I was younger, but I had no _idea_ that it was enough to warrant homicide. Still, what better way to get back at my father than to strike off his only heir when he has no way of molding a new one. Excellent plan, but shoddy workmanship."

Elizabeth grinned, "Don't flatter yourself, Alexander. Even you should realize that if I really wanted to make your father suffer, I'd destroy his summer home in Madrid. After all, with Lucas just waiting in the wings, your place in his list of cherished things can only be one up from the end - if you are even on it."

Lex rolled his eyes. "And you remind me once again why Pamela was my favorite."

"Ouch. I'm wounded. And completely under appreciated for all those instant hang-over cures."

"Liz, why are you here?"

She leaned back. "Why do you think?"

Lex raised an eyebrow. "To torment me? To spy for my father as per usual? To finish the job you started in May? I honestly don't know, and I don't care. _Get out_."

Her sarcasm dropped like a sheet as she sat up and looked at him. "Sad as it is to say, I need your help." She paused for a second waiting for some cocky response before continuing. "My daughter is missing and I know your father had something to do it. Lillian swore protection for her and my husband at the time, and your father agreed when I took his position."

"Come on Liz," Lex said walking over to his pool table. "You were my father's personal attaché. You knew exactly how he worked and you cleaned up after him for years."

"I cleaned up after you too Alexander, but those days are done. Helping me helps you. I want your father out of the picture as much as you do and finding my daughter is the only way that's ever going to happen."

Lex broke a set as she walked over, drink in hand. "I find that hard to believe. Out of my mother's confidants, you never really were the most trust-worthy. How can I know this girl isn't yet another one of my father's indiscretions? That it isn't a ploy to get me distracted from the case? And, honestly Liz, wouldn't I of realized that you were pregnant?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "For someone so bright, you can be exceptionally slow at deducing the obvious sometimes, Alexander."

"I'll bite," he said handing her the cue. "How so?"

"Because," she said distractedly, "you already know her and her father." She sunk the three and the seven in with her shot. "In fact, I believe her dad was your plant manager - at least, before you fired him. Way to listen to your father on that one, by the by." She looked up to wait for the recognition to register in his eyes.

"Chloe," Lex muttered under his breath and gulped. "Chloe is your daughter."

"She's not dead, Alexander," Elizabeth whispered walking over to him.

Lex grabbed onto her shoulder. "Liz, I'm sorry. I'll help you bring charges if you want, but her safe house exploded. Gabe and Chloe died in that explosion; there is nothing left of their safe house, much less them."

"Liar," she said jerking away. "Gabriel's in Metropolis United's burn unit as we speak. I've read the reports and I know a Luthor cover up when I see it. You think I don't remember your father's hirer end employees? That I didn't keep track of yours? Don't play me for an idiot, Alexander. My daughter is out there." She paused reading his face. "And you know where. Of course, you have control of LuthorCorp now; you need her. Well, after all those years.. you _owe_ it to me to tell me the truth - but you won't, will you?"

"Liz!" Lex called to her retreating back.

"It's okay, Alexander," she said at the doors to his office. "At least I know for sure I'm on the right track. Besides," she looked at him through heavy lashes, "It's not like you could hide anything major from me for very long. I'll find her. And after I do, I think it's time for you and I to have another little... _talk_."

Lex paused for a moment, wetting his lips as he picked up his phone. Tapping a button he waited for the other end to pick up impatiently.

"Dent? We've got a problem."

* * *

The ME office was, in Clark's opinion, a little creepy. Granted he'd felt similarly about the Wall of Weird at first but somehow, meteor mentioning articles were a little easier to deal with than the potential of accidentally walking into an autopsy-in-progress. Thankfully, Chad seemed to prefer to analyze the break room with it's flickering florescent lights and less of that sterile, stringent hospital smell. Clark leaned on the table as Chad washed his hands, rambling on about current day things. 

"So, what's going on?" Chad said at last, his brow creased slightly. "Did you find out something new about Sullivan?" Chad automatically started reaching for a red folder when Clark shook his head.

"No." He paused for a second before amending himself. "Well, _kinda_. I'm looking for some information"

Chad raised a thick eyebrow. "I thought that was your line of expertise. Sullivan said that you and Ross helped her out with her little excursions into the weird and unexplained."

"- I got a strange visitor this morning."

"Who?" asked Chad, spinning a chair around to sit in it backwards.

"Someone claiming to be related to Chloe," Clark muttered beginning to pace. "What do you know about Chloe's family? She was never real forth-coming about that to me."

Chad seemed to do a full body shrug as he wracked his brain. "Uh, not much. Moved here in '00 with her dad, mom took off when she was a kid. She has some aunts and uncles in Metropolis." Chad paused, "you know, her family life never really came up. It was mostly 'Oh, meteorite mutations, cool.' You might want to check your old flame though; I've personally found that when you live with people you give up a lot of personal information."

Clark grimaced and scratched his head. "Yeah... hey, has your librarian cracked those encryptions yet? It's been almost a month."

"Babs? No." Chad said, rubbing at his temples. "We've tried just about everything but her D drive is sealed tighter than Fort Knox. Whatever is on there, she didn't want anyone to know - which makes total sense after all the times her room was tossed. B took it back to her dorm though; as soon as it's to the normal firewall she's going to FedEx it back."

Clark rested his head on a cabinet. "The trial is in a month and Chloe, and her previously recorded testimony have vanished. If it's not there then Lionel gets away with everything. You need to get 'B' to hurry up."

Chad gave him a sardonic grin. "It just keeps getting more and more convenient, doesn't it? And, hey, I can't rush her. There is the possibility we won't get anything anyway, you know that. And if we rush, we could fry it and then we definitely won't."

Clark sighed. He flipped the folded paper in his hand once trying to decide if he should say anything. "How hard would it be to uncover a person's true identity? I mean, I've tried the usual but all I'm getting is basic information - and I need something deeper."

Chad twisted his face up. "You've checked the usual - medical files, house payments, uh, payroll transactions... This is about Sullivan's mystery relation, isn't it?"

"I need to double check this woman," Clark said dropping the picture Lucy had emailed him during his phone conversation. "The woman who showed up claims to be Chloe's _mother_. Her cousin sent me this a few facts - she worked for LuthorCorp and was first based in Metropolis until Chloe was five and then she was transferred Dos Rios."

"What the..." Chad looked up from the photo. "That doesn't make much sense. I mean there is nothing out in Dos Rios in regards to the vast and growing LuthorCorp empire; not like the eastern seaboard. It's insane to transfer and up-and-comer out there."

Clark continued pausing. "Well, it's insane showing up after twelve years - but Lionel Luthor has a funny way of making people react."

"I know I've asked this a thousand times before, but why not go to Lex, Clark? It's obvious the man hates his father."

Clark crossed his arms and shook his head. "We can't trust him."

"Look, whatever issues you have with him, the man has to know that Chloe is integral to this case. You said it yourself - if she doesn't show up and if there isn't a duplicate of her evidence, Lionel walks. If we can do something to get back at the guy who screwed her around for a year, why not? I though the enemy of our enemy was our friend."

"And what if by going to Lex, we end up sending one of Lionel's lackies right to her door? Either way, Lex is in charge LuthorCorp now. Chloe was as much Lex's pawn as Lionel's - do you really want to risk it? I don't want to have him lead us to her only for her to die because we trusted the wrong Luthor."

Chad sighed. "She's in the middle of it anyways."

"But she's alive," Clark reminded. "And if we find her without Lex's intervention, she's more likely to stay that way."

"You think she's still with Lionel then," Chad stated only slightly defeated toying with the black and white print out. "Mama de Sullivan working for the same man who tried to blow up her little girl?"

"I'd bet money on it," Clark said shoving his hands into his pockets. "She walked out on Chloe for him; left her husband for him. What wouldn't she do at this point?"

* * *

_4_. 

Lily twirled the pen around in her fingers a few times as she gazed over the legal notes Terrance Lance had left behind when the board had pulled him off the case. While their firm might publicly support embezzlement, and might even practice it on a few of their own clients (like a certain Luthor sporting a rather garish shade of tangerine) it really didn't look to fondly of those, like the ex-Mr. Lance who practice what they preached so often.

Lily grinned to herself; Terrance had become old and senile when he bit the hand that fed him, trained him, that gave him everything he ever asked for. She wouldn't make that mistake. Nor was she blind enough to think that the partnership of herself and of Lyle Manning was anything other than an obvious set up for who would climb the next rung on the corporate ladder.

Lyle swiveled in the ex-Terrance chair, resting his feet up on the desk. "Why would the big man upstairs send us all the way out here? Normally, it's men like Lionel Luthor who come to us - not the other way around. And face it Lily, we're hardly the people they send out for the high profile cases."

"It's probably just another hoop to jump through; see if we can handle the tougher cases, after all, the Luthors are just the tip of the iceburg," she said, flipping over to the next page. _'Standard arson, paid off police, turned him into a semi-legal business man and Edge into the head of the Midwestern mob. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Blah, blah, blah. Boooring._'

"Depends," he said with a grin. "Do they want him to walk or locked up. Go the wrong way and-"

Lily cut in, "and Mark Stiles takes both of our positions. Believe me, I'm well aware of that fact." She raised an eyebrow at him and tossed the file on the desk. "This is worthless. Just the basics - no wonder Terrance went the way of the dodo, with that argument our client was destined spend a lifetime in safety orange."

Lyle tapped his fingers, looking like a kid in a candy shop. "So we're here to get him out. A challenge. I like it."

"Looks like it, doesn't it? I think we need to get a call down to Gotham and find some 'evidence' of our own. Obviously our predecessor failed to learn creative solutions to Mr. Luthor's problems. Why anyone would trust the American legal system when it's so easy to tamper with completely baffles me."

Lyle paused a moment before sitting up in the desk. "I'm sure Morgan Edge had a very troubled childhood. Hated the fact that he had to grow up on the streets while his so called 'friend' had a warm bed"

"And parents. Warming, loving, caring parents," Lily added watching her college rise and circle the furniture.

"And legal jobs. Money enough to get out of Suicide Slum where as poor Morgan was roughing it on the streets. A senseless act of jealous that started him forever down the road of murder and mayhem; a road that ultimately ended in his demise when he tried to get his finale revenge on our poor client by drugging and attempting to murder his son."

Lily smiled widely. "You think we can get some conclusive DNA up here before supper? I've got dinner plans with a very charming young reporter who might just accidentally find the topic a little more on the record than off."

Lyle snatched up the filed greedily. "I know it." He licked his lips as he flipped furiously through the pages.

"What about the whole liver-disease front," she asked. "Those records, not even the firm is sure any of them will work. Lionel Luthor might be many things, but I don't think stupid is one of them. He's bound to figure it out. And it's not like he has the distractions of his conglomerate any longer to obfuscate your so called 'treatment plan.'"

"Lily," Lyle patronized, his fingers dialing the numbers. "Lionel Luthor is a desperate man; that's why he hired Terrance and that's why he's going to hire us. It doesn't matter if it isn't going to save him; he just has think it will long enough for us to win. After that, the Bishop brothers can have him."

Lily leaned over the desk, eyes glittering. "Then we need to give him something he really wants. Something he didn't realize he needed." She tapped a blood red nail on the prosecutions witness' list. "Like this."

* * *

Lana unlocked the back entrance with a click. The smell inside was that of dust, cleanser, faint must of coffee. The Talon was, for the most part, unchanged. The lights flicked on slowly still, the four tile in was still loose on the floor. It was a little dirtier, a little less lived in, but pretty much the same as usual. 

It was comforting.

"Lana, you finished the art work on the second level and...on the ceiling!" Nell breathed in marvel. "Oh, it's just beautiful," she exclaimed walking out into the waiting area with a twirl. Dean murmured in agreement, noting how to re-arrange the tables yet again.

Lana grinned uncomfortably. "That's what my admissions officer said when I sent in the photographs." She ran her fingers along the smooth counter-top in awkward silence. "So, Lex just...sold you his shares?"

"When I explained to him how the job opened up in town and how excited Nell was at the prospect of us being a family again, he practically forced me to take them for free." Dean said jovially. Lana gave him a tense grin.

"Don't worry," Nell said, resting a comforting hand on Lana's shoulder. "We aren't going to change you're routine. If art is your calling, I want you to have the opportunity to explore it - not sitting back wondering if your hard work is going to waste. Besides" her voice dropped conspiratorial, "I've missed being a business owner."

Lana nodded slowly once. "Okay," she said in a drawn out voice as Dean wrapped an arm around Nell's waist. "Uh, I'm just going to make sure the roaster in the back still works we've got a lot to do if you want to open in a month."

The giggling started as soon as she ducked behind the counter. She bumped her head lightly and in rapid succession against a shelving unit. _'Well, Lana_,' she though, '_welcome hell_.' Lana opened her eyes blearily when her fifth rap produced a low roll against the slightly uneven surface.

Snaking her hand out, she felt cool metal in her grasp. Lana pulled the object out slowly, opening her fingers around the small metal cylinder. There were three little lines at one end and she twisted on that end. The metal unscrewed fluidly, dropping a small clear vial into her open palm. Her brows knitted together as she turned it over, the lone air bubble moving towards the top.

"Adam.." she whispered as recognition dawned. This had to be what he was raving about; she'd always assumed he'd simply gone insane, that somehow he was a fake or a twin or something...explainable. This vial. This was what he'd wanted. What he was willing to beat up countless people including Jonathan Kent and Chloe. What he was willing to _kill _her for despite the dates, the secrets, the trust, the whole friendship. It meant the journals, the death documents... Her knuckles turned white as she clutched the vial. She choked on her words.

"It was all real."

* * *

Jonathan shook off his boots twice before walking into the kitchen. The smell of spiced apple wafted in at him. 

"You won't believe who I just got a call from," Martha announced, hanging up the cordless phone as Jonathan sat down to breakfast. She paused for a second before continuing. "_Nell Potter_. She wants to have a business meeting with me concerning the Talon."

Jonathan paused mid-bite. "The Talon? I thought Nell was in Metropolis and Lana was still in art school."

"Evidently, they're back," Martha said with a shrug. "It's probably just to get a pie-agreement for the re-opening...where's Clark?"

Jonathan raised his eyebrow.

"Right," she amended sitting at the table.

"I don't know, Martha. This whole obsession with getting back at Lionel..."

"You heard him yesterday. He feels obligated to see Lionel Luthor behind bars. I wonder who could of made him so stubborn about such issues," she added pointedly.

"I just... you _know_ how I feel about the Luthors, Martha." Jonathan swirled his spoon in his oatmeal listlessly.

"Well, Clark's not going to back down until the case is over and he has some piece of mind about Chloe. Jonathan, you made me promise that I'd let go when the time came. It's not a one sided agreement."

Jonathan slide away from the table slightly. "I know, I know. It's just hard to get past the though that in his quest for Chloe he could be playing right into Lionel Luthor's hands and he doesn't even see it. Or want to see it."

"Maybe Clark's paying more attention than we've given him credit for," she commented, grabbing his hand and squeezing slightly. "And think at it from Clark's perspective, not going after Lionel when it happened to Lex only delayed the situation and when it came up again, Chloe got hurt worse. He's just trying to do the right thing."

Jonathan squeezed her hand back and nodded. "Still, I'd rather have the right thing being the Torch's grammar checker than the one man Lionel vendetta."

"It's not one-manned," Martha said trying to keep a straight face. "He's got Chad. And Pete."

Jonathan returned her patronizing smile in kind.

* * *

_5_. 

Lionel couldn't help smirking as she stepped up to his cell, one heel clicking after the other.

"I see you dressed for the occasion; Bravo." He leered openly. "Though, I honestly thought that after those years of dedication to my company your arrival would have happened sooner. Has this little sabbatical of yours caused you to forsake the one person you could always count on? Have you found that higher power, Lizzie?"

Elizabeth kept her expression neutral. "Hello Lionel." She gave him a grim smile, her eyes still narrow and harsh. "I would ask you how you are, but apparently they are taking really good care of you before your trial. Rest assured, in a month you will be able to taste just a touch of the pain you've caused countless people, families, and towns." She snickered, a joyless cruel sound. "I don't think all the penance in this world or the next could make up for all the sins you've done. And remember, I quit."

Lionel smiled, amused. "The atheist talking about the hereafter and redemption; Trust me, I had no idea that hiring Martha Kent would upset you so much. You have found religion, haven't you? You needed a little something to help you sleep at night after you betrayed me?"

"I know what you did to her." Elizabeth tossed her head slightly, her dark hair falling off her shoulder. "Lillian had deal with me, a deal you honored. For all the stories I kept quiet, for all the information I leaked, for all the facts I planted, for all the lives I helped you run into the ground - for all of that, I asked so very little from you. Unlike Dominic or Pamela or any of the others - I didn't want your money. I didn't want to become famous. I didn't want to make myself indispensable to the _great_ Lionel Luthor. I wanted one thing - for the husband and child I left behind to be safe."

"Careful," Lionel chuckled. "Big brother is watching us. I wouldn't want you getting in trouble because you had a moment of weakness."

"You couldn't stop yourself, could you?" she asked ignoring him. "A bomb? Really." She gazed at him through her hazel eyes. "Couldn't you get any more creative, after all the work I did for you? That she did for you?"

"I liked the irony."

Her tone was clipped. "Of course you do."

Lionel spread his arms wide as he paced around his cage. "How can I not? _Two_ women collect enough data about my past - one for the first time, the other the woman who hid it originally - and they both go to my only son, not once but _twice_ to send me off to jail for a crime I didn't commit; a crime that can't be proven in a court of law thanks to all of your hard work. I should congratulate you, Elizabeth. I knew you pulled long hours, but I had no idea how through a job you did. You know, there is always room at LuthorCorp for a woman of your special... talents."

"Lionel," she said grabbing the cage. "You may have killed my daughter, but believe me when I say your are never, ever going to be able to do this to another person again. Not while I'm still alive." She paused as he began to speak before cutting him off. "Shh, darling, Big Brother is watching us. And I'd _hate_ for you to get in even more trouble because of a moment of weakness. After all, it would just take all of the fun out of it for me."

* * *

Pete fumbled for his keys as he left the locker room. If playing football against his team mates at Smallville was hard, MHS was even worse. At least, despite being the shortest on the starting string, he had speed and plays to bring to the table. He was the fastest on one the team, thought he really didn't want to think of Chloe's possible explanations for that. 

His cell chirped out the Brady Bunch theme and he flipped it open with a sigh. "Lana."

"Pete! Oh, Pete. Oh, God. _Thank God_ you picked up your phone. I really need to talk to you; it's about C-Clark. And-"

"Did he find her?" he asked, his voice squeaking upwards as he death gripped his duffle bag.

Her voice became small and quiet. "...No?"

'_No, of course not,'_ he mentally amended. _'Because that would be to obvious. It wouldn't nearly be anything worth freaking out about.'_ He rolled his eyes, opening his car. "What is it then?"

"Well, I, uh, didn't know who to call. So I called you. I was showing Nell and Dean around the Talon today when I found a vial that had been tapped under the counter. I thought I'd cleaned out everything after he left, but apparently I missed-"

"He who?"

"_Adam_," she declared as if it was obvious from the start before mashing her words together in a hurried mess again. "So I got out my copies of the information Chloe helped me pull up last year; birth records, news articles, y'know, stuff like that- that she knows how to find really easy, y'know? So, I went to see what the L-Ledger had said about his death and what his formal obituary was... and while her friend the Ledger, the proof reader with the headgear? y'know him? That Michael dude? - still has copies, the originals of his previous records were all gone."

"Slow down," Pete said. He stopped leaning on his car, gazing over at his new campus, wondering why he was allowing her to drag him back into Smallville's mysteries, not wanting to admit he'd never let go of them. "You found a tube"

Lana's voice grew more panicked. "A vial. Of hisof Adam's temporary treatment, yes. The stuff he was looking for before the whole incident last year. Oh God, I wish I hadn't thrown out his journals. I was just so _angry_ at the time I wasn't thinking that it cou-"

"Lana - you found his medicine, and then he disappeared from all the previous identify records Chloe had helped you find? All of them. There are none left."

Silence met him for five seconds before she replied in a whispery voice. "_Yes_. He wasn't Adam Knight; there was no Adam Knight. And who ever it is expected Chloe or I or someone to go looking for answers; answers that were strategically p-placed and he knew completely. Maybe he was brainwashed. Maybe he was like Emily. Maybe he really was dead... but just wasn't who he claimed he was. Whoever he was, he was sent her specifically to spy on us."

"Us?"

"Me. You. Lex. Mostly Clark and Chloe through me. What I said to them. What I did with them."

Pete took a deep breath. "And this relates back to Clark, how?"

"I think... I think Chloe is alive too. I think someone is playing with the records knowing that someone will look for answers. And that's what Clark believes. I think." Her voice was small, and rushed. Pete could almost see the guilty look on her face.

"I thought we were supposed to get over it," he asked, sarcasm dripping, as he got into the car.

"I lied?"

Pete snorted.

"Listen, someone went to great deals to cover Adam up. Someone who obviously wasn't too important because they left him here to _die_, Pete. And Chloe... she was involved in _everything_. She always has been. How many times has she suddenly put the puzzle into place? If anyone had the answers, who it would it be? It would be _her!_ Or she'd find them. And her disappearance - I went over and checked out Clark's wall while he was at lunch today. And beyond being scary...It's..way...too clean."

Pete couldn't help the incredulous look on his face. "Too clean? Lana, it's a big tangled mess. This whole situation is one huge mess that Chloe never should of gotten involved in. That none of us should of gotten involved in."

"No! No, Pete, it's not. It's a direct line. Chloe writes this, agrees to that, and BOOM, dead. O-or seemingly dead. It's too neat. Just like Adam. It's too similar not to have something linked. Adam was the same thing - absolutely linear except when you go back none of the answers line up. She knew too much."

"And so they tried to kill her, this isn't new Lana."

Lana let out a frustrated growl. "No, Pete. That's what I though earlier. And I was.. " She paused searching for words. "Listen, what I do remember of those journals, it was all theories about what everyone knew. Van McNulty broke into her files cause she _knew_ things. Her safe house exploded because she _knew_ things. Things that people would fake her death long enough to use or get."

Pete sighed. "Where are you?"

"In the Talon... we're never going to get to have that normal conversation, are we?"

"Listen, Lana, I'm coming up to spend the weekend with my dad. I'll... see you in about an hour. You bring the coffee and your articles, I'll bring mine. I'm not Chloe but I've been around her long enough... maybe we can see if you're on to something. And who knows, maybe we'll get that normal conversation someday when things have settled down a little."

Her voice was just a tiny bit relieved. "I'd like that."

* * *

"Our options are limited at best, Lex. The case starts in a week." 

Lex arched an eyebrow as he gazed over at Harvey Dent. The tall prosecutor was only a year older than him but had already begun making a name in the legal community as the new 'golden boy.' It had taken some convincing, mostly playing upon Dent's hatred of the mob connections to white collar crime, but he'd convinced Dent (and the state's attorney) to lead the prosecution case.

"I know."

Dent leaned over the end of the glass desk. "So. The question is what do you want to do. We have the phone transcripts, we have recovered some of the original evidence of the cover-up. The question is what you think this woman will do."

"I think the more appropriate question is what she won't do. Have you ever heard of a 'handler', Mr. Dent? Almost every business man above the 563 million mark has one or more; quite bluntly they are sent in at any given situation to make sure it benefits their employers."

"A mediator or attaché," the prosecutor added as an aside, pulling himself up to he towered over Lex. "I believe your father has one I know - a Mr. Senatori. He can be very...persuasive. If you let him."

"I suppose you could call them that, though the ones who worked for my father were far more loyal an obedient than you'd usually find... and yes, Dominic is a perfect example." Lex walked over to his wet bar, deliberately perusing his stock. "Before my ninth birthday, my mother had two personal assistants. These weren't like my father's lap dogs; they were LuthorCorp employees but they were also her confidantes. Liz Lane had been one for years when, suddenly, she was promoted to working for my father right after my twelfth birthday."

Dent raised an eyebrow. "And...?

"Liz Lane has been trained by my father to do what ever is deemed needed. She may not be working for LuthorCorp officially anymore, but I _know_ Liz. She's not going to stop until she gets what she wants. And what she wants is her daughter and your key witness."

Harvey Dent fumbled with something in his hand. "Moving her now should be a last result. Maybe we can send this Ms. Lane off the beaten track so to speak. Or we could hope that she won't find her until after we have her daughter testify. However, I think we should probably tell Ms. Sullivan herself. She's proven her ability to erase herself - with your help, of course - to be quite remarkable."

"No," Lex declared sharply. "Liz walked away from her twelve years ago; believe me, there are only a handful of things that Chloe Sullivan really wants in this world and her mother is one of them. The less she knows, the safer she is."

"What is it you want to do, Lex." Dent inquired, rubbing a small metal object now openly in his hand.

"I want you and your boys to find everything you can on her."

Harvey leaned over the table. "You mean to blackmail her?"

"Like I said, she worked for my father and she's ruthless. She left LuthorCorp a year ago; my father typically likes to create serious legal issues for employees who leave when he wants them to say. I want you to find them and get Liz out of here." Lex sipped his drink. "And the sooner you help me do that, the sooner my father is locked up behind the prison walls as he deserves."

"You really hate her, don't you?"

Lex smirked. "The first time I tried to prosecute this case, my father had me committed. The second time, he had me poisoned and nearly killed me. When the case is about to start, my father's favorite attaché shows up hell bent on finding my key witness never mind that it might let the man she supposedly hates out. What would you think, Mr. Dent? My father will do anything not to pay for his crime; I'm just willing to do what it takes to make sure that he does."

* * *

_6_. 

It was right after supper when Clark got the phone call he'd been waiting for all of July. "Babs" the librarian had broken through to Chloe's main log-in-screen which is what Chad had bribed and cajoled her to do; Clark had spent the longest twenty minutes ever driving over and shelling out a hundred and fifty dollars to retrieve her computer.

He'd sorted through files of her - random articles in progress, back issues of the Torch, a wall of weird file about all her mutated ex-boyfriends, her long forgotten database of once 'current' freaks that Van had used as a homicidal blue print. Clark had also drifted through more personal files - journal entries since mid-October of junior high, a lot of digital photographs - mostly from the spring formal, and an old letter which he had never seen before but seemed oddly, vaguely familiar.

I want to let you in on a little secret Clark; I'm not who you think I am.  
In fact, my disguise is so thin, I'm surprised you haven't seen right through me.

I'm the girl of your dreams, masquerading as your best friend.

Clark had also stumbled across another set of her "Chloe Chronicles" as well; this time with Pete and a particularly scary revelation she'd tipped off. Another journalist, bent on showing the truth about the meteorites had mysteriously disappeared years ago; Chloe had avenged her to some degree. He'd added that to his tangled wall, but the answers of where she could be didn't become any clearer.

He was starting to open into one of her files, one that even had his name on it, when there was a knock on the door and Lana announced her presence with a simple 'hello.'

"Hi, Lana," he said distractedly.

"I just wanted to tell you that I want to do anything I can help you to find her, Clark. I think she's in more danger than you realize."

He ruffled his hair. Even with the encryptions mostly off, there wasn't anything to point him n the right direction. "There's not muc-"

"Me too," Pete said, walking in the door and standing with Lana on the opposite end of the desk. Lana grinned at the very manly head nod of acknowledgement. "I think she's hit on to something. The man who handled all of Adam Knight's medical files that we can find? Most of them are conveniently missing." He paused tossing the file to Clark. "But it's the same guy who signed Chloe's official death certificate."

"Paul Westfield?" Clark asked, eyebrow raised. "Adam's medicine came from a different scientist - one Lex knew. A doctor...I think it was Teng. A woman. She's dead."

"We called Chloe's friend the Planet," Lana supplemented. "He used to work for Cadmus Labs."

"Before LuthorCorp bankrupted it and bought it halfway through our freshman year," Pete added. "And guess which trio was collaborating his findings? Dr. Steven Hamilton, Dr. Arthur Walsh, and the mysteriously missing Dr. Donovan Jameson - ring any bells for you?"

Clark looked up, realization setting in. Jameson was backed by Lionel. Hamilton had been backed by Lex. Walsh was probably dead, but he had the only moral conscious of the bunch. Westfield hadn't been part of their team; he eyes scanned down the print out Pete had thrust at him. In fact, Westfield seemed to head the division they worked for.

Lana crossed her arms. "Chloe called them the "whacked out" scientist brigade. She has been tailing them for almost two years."

"Given what Jameson was working on at Nu-Corp and with that lab out in the woods... if Westfield was in anywhere as deep as the three of them were with the meteor research and not just a do-nothing leader?" Pete shook his head. "Chloe's got more people than just Lionel Luthor after her. Potentially worse people."

Clark shook his head. "But Westfield, it says here, he didn't work directly with them. And Jameson was probably working for Lionel after the team split. So either he's working for Lionel individually or he's independent."

"Or Lex," Pete offered. "The papers made a big to-do over that incident of his in May; and we don't know what exactly happened either. But this Westfield guy or possibly the person who had him sight off is the person who will know what happened to her after that explosion."

Clark nodded in agreement.

Lana looked at Clark expectantly. "But why would Lex try to fake Chloe's death? And why with someone whose interest wasn't medicinal science?" She paused. "And why don't you know what happened with Lex anyway?"

"The trial," Pete interjected. "He's trying to keep her alive until the trial, so he can keep control over the company. "

"Or get back at his father," Lana pointed out. Pete raised an eyebrow in disbelief as she turned her attention to Clark. "What are you looking at?"

Clark sighed, tossing the file down. "Chloe's computer. I've got one more locked folder to open up yet." He typed his access codes Chloe had written for him almost three years ago and prayed that they worked. (username: ckent, password: redplaid)

A video popped up; she was sitting at that very desk some six months prior. Her face filled the monitor, her voice poured out of the speakers as Lana and Pete rushed around to stand behind him.

Hello, Clark.

It's January 21, 2004 and I'm recording this case something happens to me in the near future due to my clean break from Lionel Luthor, my column at the Daily Planet, and your friendship.

I don't even know where to start. I know you must have a million questions, but I don't know how many answers I can give you. I've included a copy of all my files - ALL of them - for you here.

I hope it's enough.

If you're watching this, it means I'm probably dead. You were always the one good thing in my life, and if I didn't tell you enough, I care about you more than you'll ever know. Please find out who did this, Clark.

You're the only one who can.

* * *

Elizabeth walked down the hall, her footsteps sharp. The over filtered air of Metropolis was notable after spending time in the meteor capital of the world. It was oddly comforting; Elizabeth was used to cold, used to sterile, used to silence. 

She pushed open the latch on the door softly (whom she was afraid of disturbing, she didn't know) and sat down next to the bed. She expected more machines to block her view but he seemed like he was just resting. Tentatively she reached for his hand, squeezing it once. He was slow to open his eyes, even slower to squeeze back. But he was awake and she couldn't help grinning widely at that.

"Hey," Elizabeth said, her voice cracking. "It's me. Lizzie. I know, you're shocked, aren't you? I mean, this isn't the yearly update time so why should I be here? I'm... I'm out. It took me twelve years, but I'm out. Well, as far out as anyone gets anymore."

Elizabeth ran a hand through her dark hair. Short, distinct beeps filed her silence; he said nothing.

"You know, you used to be a lot more chatty. Though your sense of humor always ran a little on the corny, no offence." She paused, "It took me three weeks to find you. I went on some kind of auto pilot - I had to.. I have to - make sure it was really an accident. Lillian promised me... It doesn't matter anymore. The point is, it took me three weeks to find you and three months to get the courage to walk in and see you. I'm still the same old Lizzie, huh? Still trying to run away from her mistakes."

She bit her lip until it turned white. He squeezed her hand, gently.

"Not anymore," she hissed. "I know he did it, I know almost everything. I'm just standing on the brink but until I know that you are going to be alright... that she's really alright. I can't move forward and snag him. Until I can find her and some how set it right. I've got to find her, I'm going to find her.

"I'm going to save our baby-girl, Gabe." She nodded. "I just have to find her, first. And then I'm going to make that son-of-a-bitch pay."

Her nails dug into his hand; neither noticed. She walked to the door in careful, measured steps. She turned to give him one last look over.

"By the way," her voice a quite whisper. "Happy Anniversary, baby."

* * *

"Mr. Luthor," she purred. "I didn't expect to hear back from you so soon." 

His grim look made it obvious that he saw right through her bluff. "Miss Meyers, I'm only meeting with you because your associates said that I would be able to start my treatments on Monday." He paused for a moment, rubbing his goatee as if in thought. "Thought I believe Mr. Manning claimed to have - what did you call it - a perk for me?"

She slide the photograph through the cell with her long red finger nails. "That was taken two weeks ago. The analysis team is certain that it is Chloe Sullivan. For one girl she did pretty well - new look, new name, new city."

"Lex must have helped her; she's wearing Prada" Lionel remarked absently, a hint of humor coming to his voice. The photo of a young, dark haired girl reading the Planet . "Old habits die hard, don't they."

"Thankfully," she said with a smug grin.

Lionel looked at her, gripping the cage lightly. "And what, exactly, do you plan on doing?'

"The senior partners felt that her fate was best left for your choosing. One of our little perks, so to speak."

Lionel slid the photo back though the cage he was in, his voice low. "Kill her."

to be continued...

song list

placebo - haemoglobin (chad and clark in the ME office)  
trespassers william - love you more (chloe's video & the gabe/elizabeth end scene)


	2. Recoil

_**Path - Episode 1.02: Recoil**_  
Title: Path; Episode 1.02: Recoil  
By: Chiriru ( )  
Spoilers: Chloe Chronicles; S1-S3 with a slight from Covenant. Sequel to Genesis, also here at Count: upwards of 9,600  
Rating: PG? PG-13?  
Disclaim: Don't own what Almiles created; just what I did.  
AN: Thanks to Tig, T, Amy, Landa, Stina, Medie and other people who helped me get off my butt and finish this. Again. :P

**1.**

"You want me to go to Edge City? Isn't that in like, Nebraska?"Lily Meyers rolled her eyes. "No. It's in 'like' Ohio. And when we asked you for employer's assistance, he assured us that you were more than capable for this job, Mr. Tarr. If you aren't, then we could always just let Mr. Church know that."

The man, lean and scruffy, shook his head. Lyle watched from the shadows as Lily circled the twenty-something. The Bishop agency had gone to great strides to push Bill Church to the head of the Midwestern crime circles after Morgan Edge's mysterious disappearance last year and Arthur Hatch's exposure the year before. But if his men couldn't take out a simple high school-er... then they were going to have a problem.

A rather big one, Lyle mused.

"It's nothing," Rick Tarr growled out, eying the room. Lyle doubted the man had seen so much money in one space. "I've just never been to Ohio," the man explained with a slight monotone from his voice. Lyle pegged his intonation as Wisconsin as Lily pointed out the monetary sum.

"We'll play you a quarter now, and your full half upon completion." She pivoted on her heel. "Of course, if this goes well, we might just need to keep the lines of communication between Metropolis and Bludhaven open. If you catch my meaning, "she added leaning down over the table.

Rick's eyes darted down when he spoke. "What kind of time frame are you looking at?"

Lily's eyes connected with Lyle's and she raised an eyebrow. Easier than they'd thought. "As soon as you can get it over with, Patrick."

* * *

Elizabeth tapped scan on the radio a few times. The sticky August air didn't feel as bad when it whipped through the open windows of her car. She stepped on the gas and the Alpine's speedometer climbed over seventy as she crossed yet another state line. The hard rock cover blared from her speakers. It wasn't the Beatles but it was better than that Remy Zero crap her daughter apparently had a yen for.  
Her cell rang twice as she plugged her head set in.

"What do you want?"

A female rasp answered her in turn. "You need to hurry. His law firm just dispatched a man of dubious legal background on one of LuthorCorp's private jets - it's expected to reach Edge City in an hour."

"Yeah, well," Elizabeth snarled as she past a sign noting seventy miles from her destination, "I've yet to arrive to the end point of this excursion you've sent me on. I've got nothing but your word that she'll be there."

A soft laugh came over the other end. "We've already sent you all you needed to retrieve your daughter, Ms. Lane. Didn't you find your trip to her home town enlightening?"

"No."

"Elizabeth," a new voice, this one soft and tinted with a British accent, "If they get to her first, then there is nothing we can do about it."

She cut across two lanes of traffic as she got onto the exit ramp. "Well, if they get rid of her before I get there, not only will I refuse to pay you back but I'm not going to be able to. So, you'd better stall the hit man if you don't want to deal with having to explain to your head honcho why he has to deal with Lionel Luthor and why I was forced to back out of our arrangement. Of course if you do, that's just fine."

"You're a horrible liar," the rasp retorted. "You keep up your end."

"And we'll keep up ours," the Brit interjected.

* * *

_He pushed past Lex, angry. It had hurt more than angered him to find that room; to know that Lex had played him and everyone all along. He walked down the steps, three at a time, wanting to be as far from Metropolis and the Luthors as possible._

"I don't warrant a proper goodbye?"

Clark turned to see Chloe on the side walk, looking up, shielding her eyes from the sun. He slowed his pace and approached her.

"Goodbye? Why?"

She snorted. "Lex, and the district attorney, seem to think it's better if Dad and I lay low until the hearing gets underway." She shuffled her feet and his shadow fell across her face. "I guess I get to look into the exciting world of protective custody rather than take that opening at the Ledger this year."

"Oh." He paused for a second. "I was kind of hoping we'd have a summer to just hang out, get back to normal..."

"Me too," she added, drawing her arms around herself. "But I guess not."

Clark nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Chloe looked up at him, her earrings jangling as a familiar grin crept across her face. "Clark, you're zoning out on me. C'mon, it's not the end of the world -- worse case you'll see me at the trial, best case I'll be back to clean up the Torch next Tuesday." She dropped the jovial tone, "if I'm not, will you...?"

"Yeah," Clark said, making up his mind, as he rubbed her shoulder reassuringly. "I'll take care of it until you come back."

Chloe seemed to accept this, and nodded softly, interlacing her fingers with his other hand. "Thank you."

Clark gave her hand a slight squeeze, before drawing her into a tight hug. "You're welcome," he murmured into her hair.

"...are you **even** listening?"

Chloe turned her head towards her boss, a guilty smile plastering over her face as she stopped doodling on her calendar.

"I finished the Obituaries half an hour ago, Ms. Brandt and I've gotten your appointment made with your source - a Mr. Sorethroat? - made for two p.m. in the parking lot.," she informed the copy editor of the Edge City Tribune, pulling the folder of corrected articles of the top of her monitor and placing them into Margaret "Peggy" Brandt's open hand.

"That's not what I was talking about, sweetie," Peggy said with a grin as she put the file into her briefcase.

Chloe's smile dropped off her face. She ran her hands though her dark hair (coloring it bleach blonde or even honey gold was a no-no as far as hiding went) attempting to seem nonchalant. "Ooohh?"

"You've got a visitor in my office - try to make it brief."

Chloe nodded in agreement, and slowly rose out of her chair. _'Oh God,'_ her mental processes filled in. _'This is it, they've found me. Make overs and false names and moving towns be damned, they are **here**. It's all over. I should of known better than to trust Ron Troupe. So he set me up with a few jobs, so what? God, Chloe. Really. Couldn't stop working for a few months, could you? Noo, you had to press your luck. A lot of good that did you, huh?'_

She paused half-way through the bull pen and slipped her hand into her jacket, reaching for the pocket knife inside. Lex had given it to her shortly after she had come to him with Lionel's recorded confession - _"Keep it as a last line of defense,_" he had said. "_I hope you don't have to use it, but just in case_," he had said. Chloe turned it over in her fingers.

_'Maybe if I turn around I could still get out of here before they realize...'_

"Move it or loose it!" Peggy called from the other side office. "I don't have all day here."

"Fine!" she hissed under her breath, storming towards the office and slipping the small weapon up the left sleeve of her coat, "but if I die it is _so_ all your fault."

She stomped up to the door in her dress shoes her hand hovering above the knob. '_Well, at least people will remember your name, if only connected to a brutal murder at the Edge City Tribune, but they'll remember it,_' she thought hopefully. She threw open the door and stepped inside, closing it behind her. A tall, broad figure stood with her back to her in the darkened office. Her eyes followed him up his shoes, over his trench coat, to the fedora on his head.

She almost laughed at the comically stereotypical hit man look. Instead, she gulped and let the cool metal handle slowly slip into her fingers. The figure pivoted slowly and Chloe tightened her grip her clammy palm. How had the plan failed. The plan had made sense. It was a smart plan. Everyone in town thought that the Sullivan family had died from a gas leak in the home they'd bought not even three months ago. And part of that was truth, Gabe and Chloe Sullivan were gone as far as anyone cared.

"I should of known better than to trust Lex with a plan," she muttered to herself. The figure now facing her quirked an eyebrow and proclaimed he was "hurt." Chloe looked at the familiar face and dropped the blade in her hands. An uncontrolled smile broke out on her face, followed by relieved laughter.

"Nice hat," she snickered.

Lex nodded towards her, deftly retrieving her fallen weapon. "I could say the same about your glasses."

"Hey," she said, putting the knife back in her jacket. "I'm incognito." She adjusted the cat-eyed frames on her face. "It's all part of my secret evil plan to be, oh, not discovered and killed by your father's low-moral lackies." She grinned at his look at her. It was so good, so normalizing to see a recognizable face. She shook her head - her brain wasn't working right. "Why is Forbes' biggest power player meeting with lowly, under aged copy editors in run down cities? I mean, I thought my testimony was a week off still."

"We've run into a problem," Lex said leaning on the desk, hat in hand.

Chloe leaned against the door, locking it. "What kind of problem?"

"The kind that results into your cover being blown. Someone is coming-"

"Clark?" she questioned grinning and warmth oddly rising in her chest. "I don't think you have to worry about him at all." She let a small despondent sigh. "It's not like he can find the broad side of a barn without me - and he practically lives in one."

Lex, grabbed her by her shoulders, shaking her slightly as he spoke. "Chloe. It's not Clark I'm worried about finding you - my father knows where you are." He paused as the thought sunk in. "I've already talked to my contacts at the DA. Harvey agrees that getting you out is the best thing we can do - how long will it take you to clean out the identifying objects from your desk?"

"Uh...five, ten minutes tops," Chloe said dazed. "How did he...? God, I should of never gotten a job."

He ignored her question. "Good. I've already sent people to your apartment to sweep it. Within a half-hour, we should be on our way back to Metropolis. I can hide you in the pent house for a little while at least."

"How long is a little while?" she asked her voice climbing in pitch.

Lex shook his head and put his fedora back on the same jaunty tilt. "As long as it needs to be - I promised you I'd take care you, Chloe, and I'm not backing out because my father incapable of admitting that a high school-er is going to take it all away." He rubbed her shoulder slightly. "Now get your things, we need to go."

"Oh boy. Metropolis. Again. Fun." Chloe held her palms up as she shrugged off his annoyed glare. "Alright, alright, I'm going." She sighed and rolled her eyes as she backed out of the door. "Although, for the record, it's days like these that make me wish I could just click my heels back to reality."

"There's no place like home," Lex monotoned.

* * *

**2.**

"Dr. Westfield?"

Clark pulled himself up to his full height when the bespectacled man paused on his way to his office. To Clark, he didn't look like anything extra special or sinister; he stood just short of six feet with brown hair and brown eyes. He slouched slightly at the shoulders and his eyes weren't quite focused on him, as if his concentration was on some internal monologue instead. Clark struck his hand out to shake, "Clark Kent, Smallville Torch. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about what you do here a Nu-Corp."

Dr. Paul seemed to zone out for a second before agreeing, ushering Clark inside his office almost absently. "Come in, come in. Unlike Rebecca, I'd love to talk to the press; especially student press, you know, we're doing some very exciting things here at Nu-Corp now, far more useful products are in testing now for the general public; but things are so slow to turn around after that unfortunate incident about Dr. Jameson's past uhm... extracurriculars? But we're doing some fascinating things here, and well, if we're going to spark interest in keeping this sort of thing then we're going to have to catch them when they're young, right?"

Clark nodded slowly. "Actually, there is something in particular I'd like to ask you about. Or two someones."

"Anything," Dr. Westfield said with a smile, waving his arms wide. His fingers brushed his lamp and it wobbled slightly. "Anything I can help you with. I've got my doctorates in engineering and biochemistry in addition to being a MD so, what every your question is about Nu-Corp's projects, I should have it covered."

"I want to know," he said pulling a copy of Chloe's death certificate as well as one of her old year book photos out and placing them on top of the clutter of the doctor's desk, "Why you signed her death certificate." He pulled out copies of Adam's files, as well. "Or his."

The doctor's mouth snapped shut with a click and he picked up the paperwork. "How did you.."

"The student press is amazingly resourceful." Clark said, keeping his tone even and measured. "The first thing we're taught is how to use public records," he joked. "It's just typically, the county coroner signs the death certificate. But you've always worked for the private sector - first with LuthorCorp, then Cadmus Labs, now with Nu-Corp. So why would you sign such a thing, Dr. Westfield? How would you have access to either of them?"

The man chuckled. "That's easy," he said scribbling on a piece of paper and holding it up against Chloe's paperwork. "It's not my signature. I've never seen her before in my life," he added, picking up Chloe's photograph in his other hand.

Clark plucked the papers from the man's fingers. The death certificate was small, tiny little quivers on the page splashed by two huge initials. By contrast the man in front of him had hand writing that jutted out and laid nearly horizontal with sharp zigs and zags. "But, why would someone use your name?"

Dr. Westfield ran a finger over the glossy paper, his voice gone distant. "I don't know. Nu-Corp has been under tough scrutiny lately, any thing out of the ordinary, well, we don't need. Corporate power-plays," he added wistfully. He toyed with the paper. "Pretty girl," the doctor commented, running a finger along Chloe's jaw. "Is she yours?"

Clark paused for a second before collecting his files and ripping the photo from the thirty-something's hand. "..No. Just a friend. A good friend." He held up the scrap of paper with the signature. "Do you mind if I keep this?"

"Nope," said Dr. Westfield oddly chipper again, as if Clark hadn't snapped at him a moment prior. Clark nodded and stuck it in his folder before shaking his hand again. "I hope you find her," the older man offered as he opened the door. Clark glanced down into his brown eyes, now shrewd and sharp.

"Me too," he replied. "Thank you for your time."

* * *

"What do you mean it's not him?"

"I mean that it wasn't his signature, Pete." Clark said into the phone as he paced in his loft.

Pete snorted, "He could of faked it."

"That's why I gave Chad the mission of getting the sample checked if possible. Even so, the fact that it was signed by him, supposedly, before he was with Nu-Corp or Nu-Corp was in trouble doesn't make much sense."

The phone line was uncharacteristically silent for a moment.

"I shouldn't of left."

Clark sighed. "Pete... "

"I mean it, Clark. If I was there I could-"

"Knowing the truth only put you in danger," Clark reasoned. "I didn't have a clue, and I couldn't save her. Neither could you."

"But maybe we would of figured this out sooner," Pete pointed out. "But I'm already enrolled here and I don't think Mom is going to let me switch back just because one of my best friend died. She already thinks a fresh start is what I need."

"You can't think like that. You've helped more than... I wouldn't of gotten this far without you. ...do you have access to the school?"

Clark could hear the grin through the phone line. "Of course, you are talking to the editor of Mattherson's sport segment. It seemed like a waste to let all of Chloe's forced journalism school be left to squander on a paper that obviously needed them."

"She would be proud," Clark said with a smile. "Maybe you can help out more than you know..."

* * *

Elizabeth eased the door open with a squeak and pulled her pick out of the lock; pulling her Beretta out of her waistband, she inched into the room.

And sighed with disappointment.

The hard wood floor creaked under her feet and the ceiling fan whirred above her head. The apartment was empty, stripped bare of everything her daughter could of touched or used. She glared as she walked into the bed room, noticing the mutilated wallboard above the naked mattress.

She ran one manicured nail along the wall before hitting it with her open palm. One of the Luthors had already gotten to her; her contact had failed to specify which - she'd been too cocky with both of them. Elizabeth backed out of the apartment, slowly her shoulders tensing. If it was Lex, there was a good chance she was being tailed. And if it was Lionel, it was a good chance that Chloe was already dead.

"Great," Liz muttered as she began to turn on her heel. A recognizable metal click echoed in the small space as she did so and she pointed her weaponry at the man's larynx.

The man was barely her height with a bad goatee and even worse teeth; his semi-automatic didn't waver as she had pressed the muzzle against his skin. "You ain't no high school-er." He spat out as if she was holding a rubber chicken to his neck instead.

"Obviously," she drew out as she took a step towards him. "Drop your gun." It took her jabbing the metal against his voice box before he dropped it with a glare. Elizabeth kicked it across the room with the heel of her boot. "Who paid you off?" She took another step toward him, forcing him closer against the wall. "I know you arrived in a private jet - the question is: Who. Paid. You. Off." She squeezed down on the trigger, slightly. "It's a very easy question, Mr...?"

His brown eyes flickered, sizing her up. "Tarr," he said, his voice loud and low.

Elizabeth grinned at him, her teeth gleaming. "Who paid you to kill my daughter. Was it Lionel? Or was it Alexander trying to mislead me?"

"Lady, I was ordered to do this, it ain't nothing personal."

She walked him against the refrigerator, and slunk her left hand down into his pockets. "Of course it isn't; that's why you are carrying a role of hundreds in your pocket here." She threw it on the floor. "Oh, and a nice little picture here." She flashed the photograph at him; a dark haired girl reading. "Is this her?"

Tarr said nothing.

_"Is this your **mark**?"_ she asked, her eyes narrowing into slits. He nodded, barely and she stuffed the photo into the back pocket of her jeans. "Which Luthor hired you? Who did they use to contact you?"

"No Luthor. Some fancy-dancy law firm." His eyes flitted over her. "Chess logo. A lady, about your size. Look, he doesn't like them either." His hand moved up to her right elbow. "In fact, he'd appreciate someone to help get them off his back, if you catch my drift."

Elizabeth backed off of him slightly; her gun still cocked at his neck, and gave him an apprizing look. "It sounds like we've got a little road trip on our hands, doesn't it?"

* * *

**3.**

"Martha, I am so glad you agreed to come down and talk to me today."

Martha nodded slightly under Nell's exuberance. "Well, I have to admit I was a little surprised to get your phone call." She sat herself down at the open table. "I thought Lana had decided to stay in Paris and last she'd mentioned you and Dean were happy in Metropolis."

Nell sat across the table for her, still perfectly poised even with her ear to ear grin. "Yes, well, after the whole incident with her friend and going off to France, I had to consider a few thing." She folded her fingers neatly on the table. "I'll be honest with you Martha; Lana missed Smallville. She spent her whole childhood dreaming to get out of Smallville and once she did, she wanted to be home. She's more like me than she wants to believe."

Martha said nothing, taking a large gulp of her coffee instead.

"Anyway, I never did do the whole 'domesticated housewife' very well. Not like you, any rate. However," Nell amended, "I am a mother too; an adopted one, just like yourself and I have a proposition for you."

Blue eyes focused from across the table. "What kind of arrangement are you talking about that requires drawing upon my maternal instincts, Nell?"

"Both Lana and Clark will be flying out of the nest for good, soon. I know that Lana's been trying to go it on her own for a while; she's got her mother's independence. This her last year here; after the past two years... I want to be here. And, I honestly can't sit back and do part time consulting for someone else any longer. I like running my own shops."

"And so, you've come back to town to open the Talon - I know this. If you want me to honor my agreement with Lana, that's fine. Clark will be going off to college soon and it's really very nice of you to offer."

Nell smirked. "I don't simply want your to bake at home and deliver, Martha. I know that you worked for Lionel; what I'm offering certainly isn't that challenging. I want to hire you as a manager."  
A mixture of surprise and horror flitted across Martha's face. "What?"

"I told you, this is my last year with Lana as sort of... needing me. My last year to really mother her. I missed out on plenty between all of her shows and all of my business. I want to have enough time to enjoy with her, as a family. Plus with Dean, I can't balance it all. As crazy as it is, I need help. And you are already on the books as a supplier and you're a more than capable business woman. And as you said, the money could help Clark - plus, even after he leaves next year you could have something to keep you busy. Keep you active."

Martha blinked. "You're serious? You are seriously offering me a job."

Nell raised her tea cup to her lips. "Yes."

* * *

Lana knocked twice on the glass panel of the doorway. She pulled on the handle and it opened slowly and silently. Clutching the envelope tightly in her hand, she walked up to the counter. While she had never met Brad or Tad or whomever before, she did know that Chloe had seemed to find him an excellent source. And since Clark and Pete were pulling a cross-state computer thing that she freely admitted she had no skill in... she was left with the would-be mortician. After a few seconds, she hit the bell at the countertop several times.

A college student, maybe a little older, walked up to the counter, drying his hands with a paper towel along the way. His dark hair was spiked up and his skin was powdered more than she was. Lana frowned; his eyeliner was better than hers too. His eyes skimmed over her twice and she shifted her weight uneasily. _'What was his name?_'

"Lana Lang, I presume?"

"Yes, I.. How did you.. I--" Lana stuttered.

Chad gave her a patronizing look. "Please, I work at the morgue, not Timbuktu. Of course I know who you are. This is _Smallville_. I'm guessing Clark sent you."

She forced a half-smile on her face. "Right." Lana thrusted the manila envelope forward. "Clark said you'd know what it was about...?"

GothBoy quirked a pierced eyebrow at her as he opened the package. "So Clark didn't tell you about his little visit to Dr. Spaz?"

Lana snorted and pulled a piece of her long hair behind her ear.

"I'll take that as a 'No.' C'mon," he gestured opening up the security doors. "I'll fill you in. Though I was hoping you could explain to me why he steadfastly refuses to see Lex beyond a 'We can't trust him.'"

Lana rolled her eyes as she followed him back though the corridors to the small dark room where she saw a spread of papers on the dark table top and rock music blaring from his laptop. Clark had obviously been giving him paper sorting techniques. '_Or maybe that's Chloe's influence - how to organize a mess by creating even bigger ones_.' "I've given up trying to pry things out of Clark," she admitted stuffing her hands into her pockets.

Chad chuckled. "I know the feeling," he retorted as he sat down in his office chair. His black nail tapped one sheet of paper, "Note one signature of Dr. Westfield." He leaned over and pulled up the ripped scrap off the edge of his desk, "Note signature given by the real Dr. Westfield."

"They aren't the same."

He flashed her a thumbs up. "Exactly; So I've been trying to see if I can find a match using the Metropolis PD files and access."

"You can do that?"

"Can do that?" He paused for a second. "Yes. Supposed to? That's a different question."

Lana crouched down next to his chair and shook her head. "Have you found anything yet? I mean, there has to be a lot to sift through, right?"

"Yeah, I called in a few favors I don't have yet. We just have to sit back and wait, which sucks. But, whomever did write it? Wasn't Dr. Paul," he said lifting the papers side by side. "See, even when you are trying to disguise your hand writing, you have tells - like with your T's and your L's. These are completely different. But, I'd wager that it is someone who knows him or even works under him. Or if it is someone else, they've been doing this for a while."

Her dark eyes darted. "How come?"

"Because my friend Matt mentioned several shipments of forms slowly missing. Not enough to make people worry but over time..."

Lana wrapped her arms around her self, chilled in the damp room. "If you stole, say, blank C.o.D's," she murmured.

"Exactly," Chad said, his black lips splitting into a grin. "Fake as many deaths as you want."

"Hey...how hard would it be to run a check on some of the other death certificates? I wonder just how many the good doctor hasn't signed."

* * *

Lex looked at the caller id with slight apprehension. He paused a few moments before palming his phone with a sigh. Dent would probably say it was a bad idea; Lex knew it was a bad idea and yet, the nagging feeling of responsibility crept up on him.

"Hi, Dad," he said despondently. "Is there a reason you're calling me?"

"Lex," Lionel said, his voice oddly jubilant. "Last time I checked, a father didn't need a reason to touch base with his only son."

Lex snorted softly. "Revisit your sources, Dad. It's fairly odd to have your father touch base with you from a prison cell, particularly given that I'm fighting to keep you there." He paused momentarily. "Is that why you're calling me? Are you going to try to convince me to drop charges?"

"Lex, Lex, Lex." Lionel said chidingly. "I called to tell you to have the staff know to prepare my room in the East Wing. I was thinking that when this whole charade is over, we could use some quality time. Together. As a family. To repair this..._rift_ between us."

Lex bit down on the inside of his lip. "That's a pretty big assumption."

The familiar half chuckle crackled across the phone line. "I'll see you tomorrow, Lex. Don't forget about the room - oh, and remind them to let it air out for a week prior. I've had my fill of stale air for the past few months; I don't need more of it in my own house."

"Sure, Dad." Lex's voice took on a patronizing air as he leaned back in his chair. "I don't suppose there are any other requests you'd like to make while you are at it?"

"No, son, just open up my room. I'm afraid I've gotten a chance to catch up on my reading this summer. I can't seem to recall, did you read Kyd at Excelsior?"

"No," Lex monotoned, glancing at his wrist.

"Pity," Lionel sneered. "He makes some excellent observations on human nature. When I get back, I'll help you recognize them."

* * *

**4.**

Bill Church looked up appraisingly. The woman in front of him was slim, dark hair and dark eyes to match with a smirk barely suppressed at the left corner of her mouth. He rolled his cigar between an thumb and fore finger slowly, tapping it on the side of his ash tray. Rick stood behind her chair, his eye swollen shut. Tarr had been a good man; did the work, didn't complain. Bill liked him, and that was a rare thing in this business.

Liking people had gotten his father killed last year. Not that the old bastard didn't have it coming; in fact, his old man had toughed longer than many had thought possible. But dangling alliances had been his downfall, and Bill Church didn't want to meet the same gory end.

Especially since Rick had violated the basic rule of their entire organization - they never, ever come to us.

Yet, come she had, toting a small hand gun and his best hit man who was supposed to be in Ohio. Central City was definitely NOT Ohio.

"Let me get this straight," he asked her, tapping his cigar lightly again. "You want me to help you find someone." The smirk tugged higher on the side of her face. "Someone who, as I understand, my associates want dead. Now, tell me, why would I want to do a thing like that?"

Her smile was bordering between sweet and rancid. "Because, your man's hit is worth far more alive than dead. To both of us." Bill cocked an eyebrow, as she continued. "Rick told me a legal firm approached him. Given what he said, I believe it was the Bishop Brothers - Bludhaven based if I'm correct. How much do you follow the news, Mr. Church?"

"Enough."

"Then you know that they are leading the defense for Lionel Luthor's upcoming murder trial." She turned her head quickly, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. "The defense hired you to clean up the job that his FBI cronies couldn't - to knock off the prosecutions' lead witness. And what can I say Billy - I can call you Billy, right? - you fell for it."

"So, you beat up my man and you drive three states back to come and see me. What do you want me to do?"

She rolled her shoulders languidly. "See, I've done my homework on you Billy. Your dad and Lionel Luthor were friends, and Lionel hung him out to dry. I just want to know why you'd let the man who screwed over your inheritance of the Metropolis districts off the hook." She leaned over the table, her scooped neck tank gaping in all the right areas. "The girl your man was after was my daughter, and far bigger fish than the Bishop Brothers are after what she knows. You found her once, you help me find her again. You help me with this Billy, and I'll cut you in on the biggest deal you've ever seen."

* * *

"So, I'm not finding anything about Dr. Westfield here, Pete," Clark patronized clicking slowly thought the back files of the Nu-Corp website. Clark's eyes flitted over pages of personnel files, searching for the name. "It's like he was never in the system." Clark pushed himself back from Chloe's old desk slowly. Every turn was a dead end.

"I'm not getting anything at LuthorCorp either," Pete's voice claimed through the static.

Clark absently clicked through more hidden files on the Nu-Corp mainframe. Documents on Tina Greer and Greg Arkin popped up, along with financial statements about Jameson, and odd inter office memos. He ran a hand through his hard, dragging is slowly down his face to rub at his eyes, his voice catching slightly. "What are we going to do Pete?"

"...What are you talking about, man? We're going to find her - just like you've been trying all summer."

"Her testimony is in a few days...I don't..." Clark drifted off mid-sentence, his eyes pausing on a name midway though the list. "I don't think we can..." _'Daniel Dabney -why is that familiar?_' He backed up scanning Jameson's employee list - Daniel Dabney. He clicked back to the reports, scrolling down at the bottom of each one.

_Chief Lab Tech: Daniel Dabney. Research control analysis: Daniel Dabney. Head of Sedimentary Research: Daniel Dabney._

"Clark, you're not backing down no-"

"Pete - do you have any... 'Daniel Dabney's in your files?"

"Uh, hold on..." Clark tapped his fingers on the desk repeatedly. "No," his voice crackled dejectedly. "Why?"

Clark sighed deeply. "I just thought I had something, that was all. ...Sorry Pete. I'm just frustrated. I've looked for months and I can't find her. And I know she's out there, but... all we get are dead ends. And Lionel Luthor is going to get away with it. And I can't do a _thing_ about it."

"We'll find her," Pete reasoned.

"I know," Clark rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I just... Maybe I should go to Lex."

"**Clark!**"

"I know Pete, believe me. More than anyone else, I _know_. But you said it yourself - Lex needs Chloe right now."

"Even so," Pete said, a hard edge cutting through the phone line. "You guys aren't friends anymore; who says he's going to help you?"

Clark hung his head. "I don't know. I'll think of something. I have to. I can't let Lionel get away with it, Pete. I _can't_."

* * *

_"Sweetheart, you're being irrational." Gabe grinned at her, hoisting his suitcase as he bounded out of the federal SUV. Gravel crunched underneath his dress shoes as he headed towards the porch. "We're absolutely fine; you'll see."_

Chloe felt the dread mounting in the center of her chest. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong; she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Maybe that it was so still out here. Maybe it was that they were just barely out of town. Maybe it was the way the agents had grinned and nodded at her. She tried to open her mouth to question, to vocalize what was wrong but nothing came.

The door slipped closed behind her.

Nothing happened.

She set her bag down; her father spread his hands wide as he did the same. She could see tension drain from his eyes slowly as he walked towards her and rubbed her reassuringly on the back. Chloe grinned. Her father was right. She was paranoid for no good reason.

When her father opened the door to get the bags left, forgotten on the porch; that's when the singed smell hit her in slow wafts followed by a fast growing roar. Her father's hands shoved her down and out as she clenched her eyes.

'A bomb' she though some tiny part screaming that her instincts were right; that something **was** wrong.

Her body was hit by waves of heat licking at her skin, shards of wood and glass hitting her on deadly trajectories. The roar screamed in her ears and she felt the solid platform fall away as she went forward. The force sent her arching back and when she squinted she could see azure sky and jet black smoke. Her thoughts flooded her senses, over riding the pain shooting up her legs, across her face.

'Clark will come. Clark always comes.'

Gravity claimed her easily and she clenched her eyes shut as she twisted in midair. Chloe didn't have enough time to panic as she skidded along the gravel of the sidewalk, stones tearing at her cheeks. She opened her eyes enough to spot a well-known dark head lying feet away from her, slowly slipping away under the raining debris before she closed them, her worry temporarily subsiding.

Oxygen flooded her lungs as she sat up in bed. Lex's lavender sheets fell away from her sweaty form and she fain her fingers through her long, darker hair and along her cheek that had long since healed.  
Chloe padded to the bathroom, splashing cool water on her face. Glancing up in the mirror, she noted the dark circles under her eyes, the waxy pale color of her skin. She picked at her hair. And grimaced at the slight.

"God, I need a hair cut," she said her voice seemingly unnaturally loud in the empty, silent pent house. She shivered at the sound and pulled one thin, fallen strap of her nightgown up over her shoulder.

Chloe hadn't seen her father since that day, nor anyone else she'd known priorly besides one. Even Lex had gone on radio silence since he felt the need to fly her out of Edge City after a tense and answerless helicopter ride.

All of his answers were "soon" and had been for months. It was getting down to the wire, only two days now, and she was getting a little stir-crazy. She pulled a blanket from the foot of her bed and wrapped it around her like a cloak as walked to turn on the television in the bedroom. Not much was on at three am but...

A soft shuffle, accentuated by the stillness of the apartment lingered outside the pocket doors hiding the elevator. Panic surged through her veins and she pulled the blanked up tighter around her and dove as quietly as possible under the bed. In theory, she was supposed to hide in the space under the floor of the pantry in the kitchen if anyone came in without calling her cell first; but the kitchen was fifty feet away and she simply didn't have the time.

The contemporary design of his bed didn't leave her much space to crawl under, but the bed curtain at least seemed to hang low and straight after she did. Chloe pulled herself as far back against the wall as she could, the blanket still wrapped tightly around her body. Accompanying her were some old (slightly dirty to her dissatisfaction) clothes and she'd never been more happy for Lex's lack of janitorial staff in her life.

The footsteps that entered the room were quiet stealthy, and Chloe tried not to breathe at all. The fringed of her cream blanket hung over her bangs, trying to tickle her nose. Hushed whispers soon came up and the sound of glass breaking as sneakered feet walked around the bed, opening the closet.

"Someone's been staying here," a guy chuckled near the dresser Lex had told her to use. A woman, near the closet laughed.

"Alexander is a Luthor, Rick - that's practically standard operandi with them." She paused; throwing things on the ground, thousands in Armani fell on the bed and on the floor. Chloe gulped and stared at the ground in concentration, trying to calm her racing heart. She heard a small click, and sneakers crunching over glass. "There is nothing here. Bruce, John - anything?"

Muffled shots of 'no' filtered thought the walls. _'Please leave,_' she though touching her forehead to the floor. _'You don't want to look under the bed. You want' to leave. Please, please, please. Leave. LEAVE.'_

The first male - Rick or Rich or something - spoke up. He lingered over by her dresser some more, the music of the jewelry box her Aunt Teresa gave her when she was ten, lilting up into the air. "How much more time do we have?"

The woman groaned lightly, as she walked around absently. Chloe could hear the clattering moving out towards the living room. "About three more minutes before LuthorCorp's 'formidable' security comes up. Though the prodigal son is in town for that merge talk with Wayne Industries - we should probably go."

The laughter and crunching of their shoes grew slowly quieter but Chloe didn't move a muscle. She laid flat against the slowly warming flooring, shivering slightly under her blanket when new, more forceful foot prints stormed in. His voice was worried, calling out loudly in the dinning room first, then the living area before making it into the bedroom. She shuddered, gulping air down once she realized it was really him and stuck a hand out from under the bed skirt.

He pulled her up forcefully, his blue eyes worried and his hands planting themselves on her shoulders. She pulled the woven blanket tight around her, and pulled up her pesky strap again. She sniffled lightly, her hands shaking. The mirror on her music box was broken, her bits and pieces of odd adornments were strewn across the top of the dresser  
"Chloe," he repeated, turning her chin towards him and staring in her eyes. "Are you, okay?"

She nodded quickly. "Yeah," she said her voice breaking off in a sob as she flung her arms around him. "I'm okay, Lex."

* * *

**5.**

"You must be Dean," Martha surmised, holding out her hand.

The man in front of her nodded, gripping her hand firmly. "Martha... Kent?" he asked, seeking confirmation. "Nell's in the theatre making sure the new instillation goes according to plan - just through those doors."

Martha smiled slightly and walked around the counter to the back of the coffee shop. Nell stood, hands on her hips, looking out at the progress as the old seats of the theatre were removed. She was chatting with a bottled-redhead in whispered tones when she approached.

"Martha," Nell exclaimed, walking over to her. "I didn't expect you to get back to me so soon. Uhm, Martha, you know Sheila Barton..."

She shook the extended hand nodding, "The PTA; the Shelbrook Museum-"

"_Historical Society_," Sheila corrected, with a smile. "I've got to run over there actually - we're getting the clippings on loan today so I need to make sure Bobby gets the right ones. I'll catch up with you later, Nell. Nice seeing you too, Martha."

Nell threw Martha a knowing smirk. "There is this whole production over at the Museum in a couple weeks about the meteor shower of 1989; maybe you'd like to help or even talk-"

"I'll think about," she detoured, knowing Nell's form of roping people in. "Actually, Jonathan and I were talking about your offer the other night..."

"And?" Nell prodded.

"Well," Martha started, "Running the farm is a lot of work..."

Nell smiled, "It wouldn't have to be a lot of hours - just a few nights a week and mostly helping out with the book keeping. You know, I thought Dean would have to be better at it than I was, but no."

"Okay- a trial basis. that's it. If Jonathan needs me back at the farm, you understand then that's where I'm going to be."

"Perfectly."

"I'm probably going to regret this," Martha added as an aside.

Nell grinned again and shook her head. "Now, about the Historical Society..."

* * *

Clark was waiting in the office when he got back. Lex breezed in with a side long glare towards his visitor, setting his brief case down on his desk. Chloe had been a mess, and the penthouse was torn apart. She was safe; that was the important thing Dent had emphasized during the recess. She also was guarded by with an additional three guards and several replacements for those who hadn't been as lucky as she had been last night, of which Lex had emphasized to his prosecutor. 'Safe' was a relative term. He shot another sidelong look to his 'guest' and rubbed at his temples.

"Now is not a good time, Clark."

"Look, I know about Chloe." Clark raged. "I know that you need her for your case and I know she's set up to testify tomorrow; what game are you pulling here, Lex?"

Lex continued setting his files on the desk, the activity serving to hide his flinch. "I wasn't aware we were on speaking terms; I believe your exact words were 'this friendship is over' if I recall correctly." He pivoted on his heel, "Have you changed your mind?" He paused a moment, met with silence. "Well then, I don't think there is anything to say. I trust you know your way out."

"This isn't about me, and you know it," Clark snarled in response. "This about Chloe and whatever game you pulled her into in order to beat your father in your convoluted little war with him."

"_Chloe_ got herself involved, a fact you've conveniently let slip your mind."

Clark glared down, his lips pursed. "You promised to protect her."

"And you of all people should know how my father operates, Clark!" Lex ran a hand over his head, his voice dropping. "I know she was your friend Clark. She was mine too." He ignored the indignant snort. "I know you're grieving..."

"Chloe isn't dead!"

"Clark, anger and denial are _perfectly_ normal responses to loosing someone you cared about-"

The teenager's jaw jutted out. "I don't believe this. There isn't any proof that she was even in that house, and you know it."

"- but you've got to accept that Chloe isn't coming back. Now, I know some specialists in Metropolis if you need some help coming to terms with the reality of the situation. I'd be willing to give their cards, if you're interested."

Clark's stared at him, his face hard and disbelieving, before striding out of the room in a huff.

* * *

She threw the newspaper on the table, foot tapping. "This isn't what I paid for."

Bill Church rolled his shoulders languidly. "You provided the address - Tarr went. The fact that you were wrong, isn't my fault."

"Breaking and entering into LuthorCorp wasn't on the agenda." Lily Meyers tossed her red hair behind her shoulder. "My firm paid a lot of money for you to take care of a problem - one you've failed to neutralize." Her foot continued tapping. "And instead your buffoon destroys an apartment."

"Rick just though he'd cover all the bases - the girl wasn't there Lily."

Her red shellacked nails tapped on the table. "We had an agreement, me and you."

"Plans change, babe," he retorted, reaching into his coat for a cigar. He glanced up to her snarling face. "C'mon now Lil," he commented standing up and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "We checked her apartment, her job, her old house, everywhere. She's disappeared," he emphasized as he started walking with her towards the exit. "So either, she's not going to testify because we scared her off or Lex Luthor has learned some of his old man's tricks. Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking 'Bill, this could get me fired.'"

Lily's eyes flashed. "Not exactly."

"And even if it does," he steam rolled, "I want you to know that I have an opening, specifically, for you in this organization." He opened the door. "Unless of course things still go your way tomorrow. Either way, you'll be back," he added, pushing her out.

Slowly, sarcastic clapping started after the metal door shut with a clang. Bill looked over to the bar. Elizabeth grinned. "Good show."

"Don't make me regret it, Lane," he said reaching for his lighter.

Elizabeth just smiled wider. "You won't."

* * *

Chad looked at the files in-front of him. When Sullivan had started pulling together her Wall, she'd started hitting him up for information. He hadn't thought much of it; he came from Grandville and no one there much took the whole "meteor transformations" seriously either so finding someone who thought along the same lines was a blessing. When they had jointly found some cases which were practically irrefutable, he'd made copies of the reports for himself.

Illegal, yes, but less time consuming than scrolling through the Metropolis files or waiting for his friends in Grandville and Metropolis to finish searches of their own. He'd first pulled out the files shortly after Lana had left a week ago. He'd found Westfield's name scrawled on Adam Knight's record; that wasn't knew or damning information. Chad pulled the print out of names from his friend Matthew in Grandville had emailed him today. Twenty three names in the last nine months looked up at him, followed by seventeen from Zack in Metropolis from the email on his computer; Forty deaths, possibly faked, in under a year. Despite the rumors to the contrary, Chad had no desire to go grave digging to check if Clark Kent's suspicions were correct.  
His fingers flew over the buttons of his cell phone, the number familiar. He waited through the tail tone until the automated message blipped in his ear.

"Clark, this is Chad. I need you to call me, pronto. I know you are focused on the trial but I've got some things here that I think you need to see. Uhm, call me as soon as you get back from Metropolis - I don't know how much Sullivan knew about what was going on, but i-it appears that another visit to our favored physician is in order."

* * *

**6.**

"Hey! I should of known you'd be here."

Clark turned at the familiar voice, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Lana," he acknowledged, "I was just...uh."

"Woolgathering?" she offered, leaning back on her heel. "Don't worry about it." She made a display of smoothing down her grey skirt. "So, how did you get in? Last I heard, you and Lex weren't talking to one another."

Clark grinned sheepishly, tapping the clip hanging from his sport jacket. "Chloe was friends with the county clerk, I sort of used my pull to get a press pass. It felt wrong trying to glean details from the news, like if she was here then I'd be so." He nodded absently.

"I'm sure, where ever she is, that she's filled with an influx of pride and had no idea why," Lana grinned. "Dean had a friend who testified about the damage yesterday; I kind of nagged to come along. I just can't believe Lionel Luthor's going to get away with it."

"He might not," Clark rationalized, his eyes scanning the hallways. "I mean, Chloe's voice recording and transcripts still exists. She was on the serum which is known and documented; it might be enough... if they haven't paid of the jury."

Lana sighed and put her hand on his elbow. "It will be okay, Clark."

He offered her a half smile. "It's just frustrating. They are in there all but calling her an 'Ex-Chloe' and there is nothing saying that's she's dead. But no one seems to know where she is." He sighed and hung his head.

Lana turned to watch people start to plow into the courtroom. "We should probably head back."

"Yeah."

* * *

Harvey Dent stood up confidently. "The prosecution calls Chloe Sullivan to the stand."

Clark shifted in on the bench; Lana's seats were in the back of the room, but it was better than standing in the doorways. It was hot, stuffy, and cramped. He suspected that they weren't the only party with a vested interest who had eeked in when they really, probably should of stayed out. Lana paused fanning herself with a folded brochure catching his gaze. Either Pete's on going theory about Lex saving her was right or...

Lily rolled her eyes. "Objection your honor - the state already tried to claim that my client was responsible for this woman's death when all testimony from FBI Agent Ramirez as well as from Sheriff Adams point to an accident. The girl is either dead or missing from what has already been determined as shoddy work by the FBI, we ask that the district attorney's office stop making mockery of this court by calling forth witnesses which lack the ability to share their testimony with the court."

Lana flinched. Over the course of the past three hours, he'd heard it more and more in different terms. Deceased, demised, eradicated, obliterated, parted, passed, terminated. It didn't make it true, but it wasn't exactly an easy thing to hear. '_I swear, I'm no longer making jokes about killing people,_' she thought to herself, flapping her paper impromptu fan twice.

"Your honor, Ms. Meyers, Mr. Manning," Harvey Dent started, talking loudly over the footsteps in the courthouse, "I believe if you check the transcripts, all the state provided was a tangible, monetary link between your client and those agents who were supposed to ensure Ms. Sullivan's safety. As for my witness, I do believe the rumors of her death have been greatly exaggerated."

Clark's heart leapt up suddenly at the confirmation, turning to gaze at the isle half-way through the speech to see a figure being guided in through the side door. The clothing was expensive, tailored, and neutral. The hair was longer, and curled under. Clark starting grinning and he couldn't stop, not even when he felt Lana tense beside him and clench his hand in a death grip. Despite all that, there was no mistaking the nose or the timed beat of her walk or the happy gleam in her bright green eyes as she stood next to the witness stand.

"Do you swear to tell the whole truth, the full truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you god?" the bailiff asked, her freshly-manicured hand on the Bible. She nodded as her eyes scanned the crowd. Her mouth twitched into a small smile when she spotted him.

Her eyes never moved from his as she spoke.

"I do."

* * *

Elizabeth stood back near the doors of the court house, leaning up against one the the huge Greek columns decorating the front of the building. Reporters hung in flocks around the lead prosecutor, camera's flashing as a din of questions poured around him. He was talking easily, charming the lot of them. Her dark eyes skimmed over across the steps.

Chloe stood, not quite balanced on her high heels, talking to an over-weight balding man. Her fingers played upon her palm as she explained something, her eyes lighting up as he gave a quick nod before rattling off another question. Chloe quirked an eyebrow, and paused a second before repeating in kind, her nose crinkling up as she did. Elizabeth curled her lip in disgust at the scene - what a vulture.

"Good job, kiddo!" Elizabeth heard him call as she started walking over, a bright bubbly laugh erupting from her daughter.

Fingers clamped on her shoulder, keeping her feet planted on the marble floor. "Liz." She smirked briefly.

"Excellently played, Alexander." She cocked her chin just lightly in his direction. "Maybe you've learned something from me, after all." Chloe hugged a young dark haired girl enthusiastically, the pair of them wobbling on their pumps. ".. do you mind? I'd kind of like to see my daughter." She asked, turning to face him.

"Actually, I do," he remarked, removing his hand. "I know you didn't divorce from Gabe; I know you bought a house in Smallville. And I know that you've been visiting my father since he was incarcerated despite your new found animosity towards him."

"Am I supposed to be threatened that you did some research on me, Alexander?" she asked, a laugh coloring her tone. Her attention was drawn back when a happy squeel rang across the steps. Elizabeth turned to see Chloe hugging the farm boy, her arms around his neck and feet clear off the ground. "I am just as much of her legal guardian as Gabriel is - joint custody saw to that. He's coming home in a week, though I suppose you know that too."

His breath played upon her neck. "Liz, I don't know where you've been for the past two years, but you've not been around for either of them for a long time."

She turned her irritated eyes towards him. "So?"

"_Leave them alone_," he advised before stepping around her and down the steps to the awaiting throng.

_to be continued..._

song list  
thrice - elenore rigby, beatles cover (liz's driving scene)  
emm gryner - summerlong (courthouse reunion/ lex & liz)


End file.
